BANG!

Friday 29^th August; Oldington bridge to Worcester Pitchcroft (racecourse mooring)

It was cool and overcast when I took Jess out first thing, cool enough to change into a long-sleeved t-shirt before we set off as it can be cold on the river even if the sun is shining.  After breakfast we hauled the anchor out from its normal home under the bed and set that up, then got the waterproofs and lifejackets ready; although we planned to stop on the service point in Stourport, if there had been a queue we would have carried straight on to the river.  Dave walked with Jess straight away, as she has to be comfortable before we go on the river.  At one point I had to throw his waterproof to him as he sheltered under a bridge, before he got back on board a while later.

An excellent fishy name

We always look out for the aquarium place near Gilgal bridge.  No goldfish to be seen in the outdoor tanks today, maybe because someone was keeping her eye on them?

Although the boat ahead of us at York St lock was going to top up their water, they had almost finished by the time we had come down the lock (12’ deep, it took a while!) so Dave hovered for a bit while I walked round by the road.  We did the domestics – pump-out, recycling, food waste and water – but not rubbish rubbish as we hadn’t even managed to fill our actual rubbish-for-landfill bin yet, even though it is pretty small.  There has been a considerable problem with duckweed in the basins, so much so that a dog had mistaken it for grass and apparently drowned, so CRT decided to remove it – eight 10-ton lorry-loads.

A week later, and back it comes.

We went past the clock tower and round to the locks leading down onto the Severn, and descended the first of the two staircases.  I was glad of a gongoozler’s help, as the gates were heavy and it was very hot!  I had had to change back into short sleeves as soon as the sun came out.  Instead of prepping the top of the bottom staircase so Dave could go straight in from the previous lock, which is normal practice because of an angled approach and peculiar water-flows between the two, we breasted up against a Starline hire-boat which was occupying the lock landing to enquire about fuel.  Although it was turn-round day, the hirers had long gone by now, so they were happy to fill our tank.  90p domestic, so not bad at all, and you specify your own split.  We should have had the pump-out there, it’s £2 cheaper than the CRT self pump-outs.  Then at last we could be on our way.

The top lock of the bottom staircase.  You can see that a longer boat doesn't have much space to adjust its direction between the locks.  Dave is just about to fetch the lifejackets before we join the Severn.

We got Jess back on board before I started emptying the bottom lock, and started down the river in bright sunshine at about midday.  I got the kettle on and made sandwiches so we could lunch on the move.  We had three river locks to descend, Lincomb being the first.  As is normal in the deep Severn locks, we passed our ropes through steel cables to stop the boat drifting around.

Lincomb lock has a submerged ledge, so you are advised to hold your ropes slack to keep the boat floating free.

There are some large caravan/mobile home parks along the Severn, all built on stilts as the river frequently overtops in wet periods and flooding can be a serious problem.

Up high

I don’t normally take pictures of the pretty or imposing houses on the river, but I made an exception for this.  What you can’t see to the right is the neighbouring property – the one in the previous picture!

Pretty house with a high hedge and fencing to conceal the more downmarket neighbours!

Between Lincomb and Holt locks there was a prolonged heavy shower, but it had fortunately cleared before I had to unzip the cratch cover to deploy the bow rope in Holt lock.

The car is crossing Holt bridge, which looks very close and rather low.  It isn’t.

Holt lock is the one with nest boxes for the sand martins.  The boxes have been there for a few years now and this year's second brood had 150 chicks fledging.  The first brood was so early that there wasn’t time to count them before they were leaving.

Des res for sand martins; though they could be seen flying above, they had long since left the nests

The really quite high Holt bridge

Sunshine and showers came and went.  The variation in weather made the sometimes tedious river journey more interesting!

My turn to steer, and it was hammering down (big fat raindrops but not quite soft hail)

We could see a boat way ahead of us, which we gradually caught up, and shared Bevere lock with them.  It was Arthur Owl, one of two hire boats from Cafwin Cruises at Droitwich Spa Marina.  Over the winter he (yes, like his ‘brother’ Ollie Owl he is a he) was converted from diesel to electric propulsion by Ortomarine.

Sharing Bevere lock with Arthur Owl

I had seen an article referring to a new footbridge over the Severn at Worcester – the new one, Kepax bridge, crosses from Gheluvelt Park (which you will have heard of if you have read the Carole Jordan/Tony Hill thrillers by Val McDermid.  It's where Tony had a house for a while ......).

Kepax footbridge.  The lens cover on my camera is beginning to stick.  I really must get to grips with my phone camera, but my fat fingers keep touching the video button by mistake.

Gheluvelt Park is just beyond the northern end of Pitchcroft Park, which includes the racecourse.  We usually moor at the southern end, between the rowing club and Sabrina footbridge.  On the way we saw a River Rescue patrol trying to check on a swan – maybe it had been reported as injured or entangled in fishing line.  

 

We moored up and had a cuppa before we went our separate ways – Dave to buy a mooring ticket (from the car park machine) and give Jess a good run round the racecourse, and me to walk the mile to the Cathedral to attend Choral Evensong.  As it was holiday time for the Cathedral Choir School, visiting choirs fill the gap.  This week it was the Matthaeus Consort (16 singers, who frequently sing at St Paul’s in London).  The anthem was This is the Record of John by Orlando Gibbons, which I have sung in our choir at home.  We are not really in the same league.

Worcester Cathedral from Worcester Bridge

When I got back, Dave was cooking something delicious, mmm!  The sun was shining and apart from a private party going on in the Rowing Club it was a very peaceful evening.  We were just sitting at the dinette table, thinking about taking the dog out before bedtime, when BANG! in fact, BANG!!!  And the sound of smashing glass!!!  Eek! Then silence.  No voices, no lights, nothing.  Out we went with torches, but there was nothing to be seen – no smashed solar panels or windows thank goodness, no broken glass all over the place – what could it have been?  There was no-one around, no other sound apart from the music from the party and distant traffic.  So, when our heart rates had gone back to normal, we went to bed, with one ear open.

5 narrow locks, 3 river locks, about 13½ miles, a lot of rain and a mystery BANG